Different Today: The full storm moon

I had started a clever bit for this full moon, musing on the given name: Storm Moon.  I had a great metaphor, discussing how storms catch us off guard.  I had fancy language and captivating prose.  I had used colorful adjectives and my trademark fragments of sentences.  Oh, it was brilliant, I promise you. Most brilliant.  But the metaphor proved to be ornery and I couldn't get my adjectives to behave...in short, I gave up on it. It wasn't saying what I needed to today.  It wasn't saying anything.  A lot of words of nothing.

My mother in law passed away on Saturday. She was eighty, infirm with Alzheimer, and barely coherent, but she was alive. And now she is not.  Much like the summer thunderstorm, I saw it coming but denied it as a reality.  I suppose I hoped it would blow over, not rain here,  Not rain where she was. Not rain where I am.  

Yet, the storm did come and today is different; not different in daily reality, but different.  

My mother in law was not a cuddly person.  She did not dole out affection.  She did not nurture or comfort.  I spent most of my time wondering where I might have misstep with her.  Goodness knows, we were not cut from the same cloth...so, there was tension.

This morning she was on my mind as I walked in the park. I was wondering whether she and I could have had a different relationship if I had tried harder and did not harbor such a fierce pride.  I tried to recall the times that she wronged me, but found none.  I laughed as I realized that her crime was being unemotional.  I had determined her lack of emotion was an indictment of me. I had decided it was her personal statement of my unacceptability.  All of this was my own insecurity and fears.  She simply was not given to show her feelings.  In fact, in some ways I can see now that she was a injured bird taken into protection by my husband's father...much as my husband protects his own injured wife.  

So much left unsaid.  So much concluded by me in the absence of her words.

I realized that I have never witnessed my mother in law intentionally doing anything malevolent or mean. She did not even gossip. All these years I thought I was unloved by her; but the truth is that I was unloved by myself and in the absence of her raving endorsement of me, I let my own feelings toward myself fill the void. 

How often do we do this?  Project our own views of our self into the interpretations of conversations and statements made by loved ones?  How often do we prejudice our own ears to what is really being said?  How often do we assume criticism when none exists?

If I had a chance to have a conversation with her as she was a decade ago, I would not rush to presume what she felt about me.  I would open my heart to her knowing she would never intentionally injure it.  So much defense on both sides..I shake my head with the uselessness of it all...

Like I said, nothing is different in daily reality...but different nonetheless.  

Cosmic Soup

Do you feel nurtured? I only ask because last night in my dreams, I made cosmic soup. Was it for you?  I like to think so.  I would nourish you if I could. If I knew how.

In my dream, I methodically cut beet greens off of the bulbs that we will eat the next day or so. I also chopped celery and carrots and introduced them to the clear broth.  I dug through the fridge looking for other veggies...those leftover bits and such that could be added to make a richer soup. I added green onions, red onions, cilantro, and a few fresh basil leaves. I found asparagus tips and a sad, near wilted head of broccoli.  I cut and chopped and watched as the pieces dropped into the boiling water.  It felt like love.

I pondered adding a jalapeno.  Why not? I mused. We could all use a little spice.  The chicken bones from Thursday's Valentine's dinner were spied on the fridge shelf.  I broke the chicken spine in my hands to release the bone marrow.  Bone marrow is the foundation of a healing broth.  I watched the bones sink under the vegetable leaves, their magic nutrition ready to leach.  I added salt, pepper, and then breathed in the earthy aroma of my boiling harvest.

I felt a satisfaction in knowing this would feed you, heal you...comfort you.

I woke startled at the detail and vivid clarity of the dream.  I wondered who the soup was for. All of us? The gods of my imagination? You?

As I write this, the smell of my broth boiling in the kitchen wafts to my nostrils. Made much the same way as the dream version; with wholesome vegetables and chicken bones.  Made for healing.  Made with love.

There is a bowl waiting with your name on it.  Feel nourished.  I wish it for you.

The Circle Dream

Two nights ago, I saw the newly waxing Storm Moon. It hung low, a bright crescent with the ghost of the whole moon behind it. The crescent was a sliver of white, barely a saucer, facing upward as if to catch all the tears shed by our folly. Not nearly big enough. Not nearly.

Besides realizing that I had missed the new moon again, I was struck by a nagging in my core.  A voice inside me whispered that it was time to share the Circle Dream; an idea I have somewhat avoided as to not be ridiculed for my passions.  When you start talking about spirit guides, animal totems, and ancestral helpers; eyebrows raise, people tighten their lips or outright laugh.  So, we, the spiritually alternative, tend to talk among themselves about concepts we believe to be as common place as Starbucks.  No one wishes to openly solicit ridicule for something they are passionate about.  Yet, the Circle Dream is not my thoughts, nor my ideas. 

The Circle Dream is a hard concept to explain. Not because I don't understand what occurred but because it is not I dream at all. It was a lesson to me as I was in a dream like state. Those who know me understand that I am fluidly accepting of signs and spirit guides. I often speak of dreams, animal guides, and the like. I do not offer proof of their validity...it is simply what I have experienced; what has become truth for me.  This lesson came to me in a dream. The main dream involved one male voice and visuals as if seen in a textbook.  I wrote the dream down as best as I am able without prejudice the morning after, December 4th, 2012.

I have no need to own these words as they are not mine. I am simply relaying.  If you disagree, that is assuredly your right, but don't expect a well crafted argument from me.  These thoughts are above me...not mine to preach or profit from.  I share them because they compel me to...

Decide for yourself if there is any information to be gleaned.

The Circle Dream- December 4th, 2012
(reference: I had dreamed of a circle 12/3/12- I was being given dimensions, shown geometry.  I can't remember much about it except there were four symbols and one of the symbols was pi.  That threw me off- but then I remembered my basic geometry- pi is the constant for figuring diameter, area, circumference, etc.  The word alchemy was used a few times...as in these things are alchemic. A voice was talking to me, maybe two voices, and I was looking at pages in a book- like a text book while they told me things about the circle.  I wish I had retained more...)

So last night the circle dream kind of continued. I woke sweaty and hot. I knew I needed to write it down but I didn't want to get up.  I willed myself to remember it.  The text in quotation is a male voice that dictated- like a professor teaching.  The italicized text is my voice.  This is my memory.

"The circle is one of the oldest symbols- origin symbols, so to speak.  think of it as a boundary- what is in the circle is of one kind, what is out of another kind.  The circle has been used to represent groups of people ('we are of this kind- you are not') and boundaries of essential orders- 'we are alive- this is not'; but what is very important to understand is that everything exists within one circle. This circle represents your world as you know it and that which you don't. All matter is within it.  All people, all plants, all animals.  Perhaps you might think of it as what adam and eve entered after seeking knowledge...

People construct and create circles within this circle to cause distinction and propagate a false sense of importance. They use the circles to exclude.  They pretend the bigger circle is too general, but they are wrong.  They would prosper within their constructed small circle and watch everything wither without regard. That is not the way.  Within this circle are endless paths of learning, of living.  Some are discordant  Some are radial.  The radial paths are the hardest to find.  These paths lead to unity of the soul, unity of all life, completion."

(Here I was being shown lines drawn all over the circle, over and over, lines crossing one another- then the radial lines illuminated and the center was beautiful white light)

I asked Does not the Buddhist path lead to the center?  The answer "yes, but it is not nearly complete- some lines end never reaching the center because someone decided they found the center.  Even the Buddhist tradition erects a smaller circle around itself- with rules of how to meditate, what enlightenment means and how it can be obtained. No one has yet reached the center, although many have come close- but what is, more important, more desirable is to help everyone find a radial path- move the majority ever closer to center versus one finding it alone."  

What is more beautiful, a field of wildflowers all blooming in mass or a single rose amid a lawn of green?  "Yes"

Can people switch lines? "Yes, people switch constantly- religions, morals, ethics. The lines intersect- many get lost amid the lines.  Dreams get lost and forgotten.  Circles erect around people and they forget the greater whole.  They live in fish bowls- power, prestige, material success distort and create boundaries.  They like how they feel special in the circle they create; but no one is greater than the most wretched soul among you- that is why all most move towards the center"  

How do I know if I am on a radial path?  no answer. (DREAM END)

If this dream continues, I will post it. I could convey certain meanings that I have come to believe are a part of the message, but that would only further muddy the original message...so, I leave it to each of you to find your own value and meaning in these words.  I'll keep my editorial thoughts in my own heart.

Ummmmmmmmm.......

Laptop under arm, I enter the repair shop I had spoken to the day before.  My laptop has been temperamental and moody; shutting itself off for no reason, catching me mid pen stroke on a digital art project that I had invested an hour in unsaved...more than once.  I was frustrated for not saving (again), but more concerned that my laptop was 'broken'. 

'Broken" was a term used for anything requiring professional attention...more accurately, monetarily compensated professional attention.  Autumn had produced a lot of 'broken' at my residence and the rental property in Sedona where I had recently stayed had plenty of 'broken' as well.  I secretly wondered if I was somehow to blame...bad kharma?  Wrong ju ju?  Poor choice in anti-perspirant?

An idea flashed in mind for atonement and I pondered a simple but effective virgin sacrifice in my laptop's honor; but the internet proved to be easier at finding repair services than willing virgins in my zip code- despite the pop up add that assured me of singles in my area.  That said, I pondered the virgin sacrifice just a second longer.  I do love a good ceremony...

Still, the laptop repair shop had won out by convenience and I now venture towards the counter with my ailing friend.

"Hi, my laptop is broken." I offer as an introduction.

"Well, you came to the right place." the pleasant young woman behind the counter replies.  I quickly size up her virginity...perhaps a virgin sacrifice IN a computer repair shop? But I rapidly deduce that whether she was a virgin or not, she wasn't going to willingly participate and I never coerce a sacrifice. I would simply have to rely on technology. 

Talk is made of my computer's vitals and its apparent problem. Information is taken, as well as a credit card deposit.  My laptop is being tagged and slid across a counter; I feel panic rise in me.  What was I going to do without it?   All my files...and my history...

"I just need the password, if there is one... and we will be all set." she says sweetly.

Panic rises further. My password?  "ummmmm....."

Let me state here that I am inept with secure passwords and I use the same one over and over.  It is the price of a cheese pizza and a large soda back where I used to work at Panucci's Pizza.  If that didn't make you laugh, then you clearly do not watch Futurama.  But seriously, my password is really just as lame. 

I stall "I have to give you the password?"

"How else can we view the operating system?"  I know this is valid, but some part of me had assumed they could do it all through the mechanical innards.  Couldn't they just take a gander at the memory gizzard or feel for lumps on the mother board?

"Ummmm...." I begin again with no idea how to finish.  I do not want to give my password up.  It feels like giving them the keys to my identity. "ummmmm...." I continue some more in a slightly higher key. "How about if I put in the password?" I ask, breaking a sweat.

"No, that won't work...especially if it shuts off erratically." she counters looking at me with renewed interest.  Clearly, I am hiding something. Something juicy. Something big.

"Ummmm....can I change it first?" I say with no idea how to actually do this.  "Can you show me how?" 

"Why don't you just set it to not have a password for the moment?" she says and then provides me, the computer illiterate, the thorough explanation of how to accomplish this.  My mind is clicking throughout this transaction and I recall that I wrote a few racy stories for my husband's entertainment.  I also remember a few photos that I let him take.  Normally, such photos get viewed and trashed because they accurately reflect the nature of my body; but I kept a small collection in which I look better than real life. These few photos supported my distorted vanity that I was a 'hottie'. 

I quickly attempt to rationalize that these computer people are too nerdy to care about my silly photos.  Then I remember Tosh.0 and I freeze up.  I picture a not so kind tag line for that photo in the bikini with the temporary tiger tattoo.  Juicy. Big. 

"Ummmm...." I say again.  Apparently, this is my new impressive vocabulary.  I am stunning her with my language skills.

I am unsure how to handle this and my indecision is readily apparent.  I feel myself starting to blush as if my stories had just been read and my pale bikini squeezed tiger tattooed flesh exposed.  I am stammering. "I think I better bring it back Monday..." I say unconvincingly, adding "I may need some files over the weekend."  I sweep the laptop up, and apologize for my 'weirdness'.

"Don't apologize for being weird.  That is what makes you unique." The clerk says in a perky voice.  Yes.  Unique.  She has no idea.  And if they weren't going to look through my files before, they certainly will now...just to see what makes a middle aged woman blush and stammer "ummmmm....."